He did. With all of the shards and damaged pieces of his heart, he did truly love Mandy. In a way he’d never thought possible, with a desperate sort of ache and a quiet joy.

“I do. I will.” And he covered her mouth, kissed her softly again and again, wanting the moment to stretch and last and allow them both to hover in that place of promise.

He touched her—arms, waist, shoulders, neck—questing, intimate touches, the need to feel Mandy’s flesh everywhere, to caress and worship every inch. Their tongues met as they kissed, a slow, leisurely mating that sent of kick of hot desire through his body.

“I want to feel you closer,” she said, pulling back to yank her tank top off. In the shadows, he could see the full roundness of her breasts.

It had been over three weeks since he’d seen her without her shirt, and then he’d only known her body for two days, but he knew she looked different. The change to her breasts was subtle, the dark pinkness around her nipples larger, her belly a little rounder. She looked incredibly sexy to him. But she also looked beautiful, wonderful, vulnerable in her love for him.

He was in absolute awe that she could look at him and think there was anything for her inside of him. “Mandy.”

She started to tumble back onto the bed, reaching for him.

“Don’t lie that way, remember,” he said, mentally referencing the Everything Guide as he took off his own shirt. “Lie on your side and just let me hold you. I just want to hold you.”

She did as he asked, her head falling onto the sleep-squashed pillow, a soft smile on her face as she settled onto her side. Damien stood up, took his shoes and pants off. He left his boxers on as he slid in alongside her. This wasn’t about sex. It was about feeling her, being near her and cherishing the idea that they could be together.

That love could be enough.

Mandy sighed when he reached for her and shifted closer until they were touching from shoulder to toes, her soft curves nestled against his hard flesh, her belly resting above his pelvis.

They shared her pillow, faces hovering inches apart.

“This could work, Damien,” she whispered. “It’s honestly all up to you whether we should try or not.”

He knew she wasn’t talking about sleeping arrangements or sexual positions, but about them. The future. Rubbing his lips across her forehead, he asked, “Why is it up to me? You’re the one having a baby. That’s the most important thing we need to think about.”